


Worth and Worthlessness

by Milli



Series: Worthy [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milli/pseuds/Milli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to this prompt on the k!meme:</p><p>This anon would dearly like to see some Cullen/Anders non-con, that started in the Ferelden Circle, and then continues in Kirkwall. Anders was so young and pretty that Cullen just couldn't help himself, and Anders mostly went along, because the Templar would to little things that made life in the Circle better. Cullen was one of the reasons Anders kept running, but the older man would catch him and drag him back. As Knight-Commander in Kirkwall, Cullen has even more power over Anders, and he uses it whenever he feels like to do whatever he wants to that maddening, pretty mage.</p><p>Lots of non-con/BDSM/humiliation would be amazing.</p><p>Eventual M!Hawke/Fenris/Sebastian love is also great... but not before Cullen gets his way... Repeatedly.</p><p>One ticket to the Void for me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Anders knew, of course, that some of the mages from the Ferelden had ended up in Kirkwall. That was how Karl had ended up there after all, the reason he had headed there in the first place. Yet it wasn’t until he saw an all too familiar face walking around in armour that it occurred to him some of the Templar may well have relocated there as well. By the time he saw the man, it was too late. His clinic was already up and running, his plans with Karl progressing, his involvement in the mage railroad deep. By then, leaving wasn’t an option he could easily take.

He didn’t think Cullen had seen him that day, when he had first caught a glimpse of the man guarding a newly arrested apostate on her way to the gallows. It would only be a matter of time however. The templar had always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing where Anders was. So it was no real surprise when a few weeks later, the heavy tread of armoured feet sounded outside his rickety doors. It was almost something of a relief, almost. At least this was an old and familiar game, and so little else in his life was ever that, now.

It had begun in the circle, naturally. At first the man’s attentions had been…nice. The templar was young, and handsome. Often kind and gentle in his own way. If you had to be guarded and watched at all times, there were worse people to be standing over you. Or so he had thought. Picking up on the man’s interest, and still a little more naïve than he gave himself credit for, Anders had taken a secret delight in dropping less than subtle hints, in flirting just a little, in making the man blush. So, when Cullen first acted on his attraction it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Only it was, because templar were absolutely not allowed to fraternise with their charges. True, there were those that did, and they were often the ones best avoided. Cullen had not seemed the type. He seemed wedded to the rules that existed (as he often assured Anders) for their shared safety and wellbeing. Yet, the day he pushed Anders up against a wall and shoved his tongue down his throat, those ever precious rules were nowhere in evidence. Too startled to say no or push back, Anders simply blinked, resembling nothing so much as a startled owl and let the man plunder his mouth for a full minute before it occurred to me to wonder if he actually wanted to be kissed, right at that moment by that man.

Luckily, corridors in the tower were rarely empty and they were disturbed before anything further could occur. This pleased Anders greatly, as he came to the conclusion that he was not alright with being manhandled in such a way, by such a person. Particularly not when armour left bruises so easily. Only next time, it was not a busy corridor, but a secluded corner in the library. And when he tried to say no, Cullen only pushed him harder, leaning his weight against him so that he was trapped. He had rubbed at Anders through his robes, until he grew hard despite his protestations, until he spurted inside his smalls, flushing red with shame. The Templar smirked then, knowingly.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t want this. You’ve been practically begging me for months.’

So, that was how it started. And it continued badly, if you were Anders. The things Cullen liked were Anders on his knees, ready to suck, or beg or kiss as was required. Somehow, the templar seemed oblivious to the fact that Anders didn’t want or expect anything from him, but to be left alone. Listening to Ander’s needs played no part in this game.

So, Anders ran away, and was brought back in chains. No less than seven times. Each time, there was one less person prepared to listen to him, to fight for him. Each time, Cullen demanded more of him, secure now in his knowledge that Anders could tell no one, could not object too strenuously without fearing repercussion.

He had told, twice. The first time, he had gone to an older mage, one already past his harrowing. The man had gone to Cullen, who had shamefacedly admitted to having a crush on one of his charges, after that, Anders was told to behave himself and try to avoid spending time alone with the man. Easier said than done, as it turned out.

The second time, it was on his way back to the tower for the final time. One of the templar sent to find him pushed particularly hard, wanting to know why he risked so much for a few weeks of freedom. So he had finally told him, and the man had listened patiently while the young mage spilled out every sordid detail. He too had confronted Cullen, but this time Anders was made to beg forgiveness for telling lies, before sucking them both off and then being dragged to a cell where he would spend the greater part of a year.

And during that year, he had longed for Cullen. Had begged for him to come. Knowing the man would not be able to keep his hands to himself, and afraid he would go mad left so long to himself. Finally, he had achieved freedom of a sort, with the wardens. For a time. Then once again, he had been forced to flee. To Kirkwall, where he would find freedom not only for himself but for all like him. For all mages.

Only it seemed that the fates were mocking him, because he had run straight back into the arms of Cullen. A templar. And yes, he could kill the man. Justice urged it. But, there was some part of him that had never been sure he didn’t ask for it, didn’t deserve it, or want it. And the man had shown he was capable of kindness towards mages, of seeing them as people still.

The day Cullen arrived at the clinic, all sweet smiles and promises of protection and secrecy, Anders wasn’t sure if he should resist. And his uncertainty saw him once more on his knees, templar cock in his mouth and ignored tears trickling down his cheeks. Afterwards, Cullen had held him tight by his hair until he choked out the words the man wanted to hear.

‘Yes. I missed you, I missed your cock. ‘

‘Good boy.’

And with that and a soft pat on the head, Anders was left trembling on the floor whilst the Templar cheerfully returned to his duties as if nothing had happened. And Justice screamed in his head that he was a fool. But Cullen could be useful, could be manipulated. And what did it matter if that broke Anders a little more, for he was shattered already. Destroyed by what he and Justice had done. All that mattered now was the cause, and he could sacrifice his body and the last of his pride for that.

And so it went, for months. Cullen would turn up, any time of the night or day, or send word requesting his company. Anders would make himself available, and each time hope only that what the man wanted was simple, easy and quick. If he was lucky, all the man would want was to stick his dick in Anders mouth and fuck his face. On bad days, he liked to indulge in other, more time consuming activities. One night, he fucked Anders in an alley, ordering him to bark like a dog as he did so. After, he made Anders follow him on hands and knees back to the clinic, where he obediently licked the templar clean. More than once he tied the mage up, spanked him or otherwise exerted his control. Every time, he made the mage thank him for his attention.

So things were bad, but they could be worse. Justice was at least partially pacified by the fact that Cullen kept the other templar from searching too hard for Anders, and on occasion looked the other way when messages were snuck in or out of the gallows. Particularly those messages to and from Karl, at least one of which he carried himself. With such assistance in high up places, the price was worth it. Or so Anders told both Justice and himself.


	2. Chapter Two

Then came the day that changed everything. The day he finally saw his opportunity to get Karl out, the day he met Hawke. Hawke was unexpected in every way. An apostate living free, brazenly walking the streets in his sweeping robes, staff ever at the ready. Much like Anders himself, but with more style. Gone were the days Anders could rival many people for that, dressed as he was in little more than rags. And it was more than just his attitude. The man was gorgeous! Dark eyes gleamed with amused intelligence, head carried high and with a touch of arrogance, traces of sorrow adding more to his years than the dark scruff of beard on his chin ever could. Anders had never before considered himself to have a type, but the moment Hawke walked into his clinic he discovered that he had one after all.

And the moment he realised that attraction, Justice was there to subdue it. They could never go to Hawke. It was too dangerous. Not only was the man a walking distraction, but there was also the matter of Cullen. Justice worried that the templar would react in anger if Anders risked a dalliance with another. Anders was more concerned that should his ‘affair’ come to light, Hawke would despise him.

So instead they concentrated on the matter of Karl. Karl, who had been his first, in so many ways. The first to treat him as an equal and a friend. The first to show him the pleasures two men could find together in hidden corners, or beneath concealing covers. The first he had ever opened up to about his troubles, though the man’s talk with Cullen had achieved nothing. At least he had tried. Yet even with Hawke beside him, he was too late. Karl was gone. It was as though the fates mocked him once more. Even as he told himself that he could not have one lover, the lesson was set in stone for him as one from his past was taken away forever.

In the early hours of the morning, when he sat up unable to sleep it was inevitable that Cullen would turn up. If the man had any idea what had become of Karl, he hid it so well that neither Anders nor Justice could detect a sign. And in some ways, whilst being fucked by a templar did nothing to ease his anger, the familiar feelings of pain and shame did a little to calm the underlying fear. As long as he could bear this, all was not lost.

Cullen had him on his knees, bent almost double so that his face was pressed into the dirt floor. He tried to roll his head, so that his face was to the side allowing him to breath, but Cullen gripped his hair tight. Instead of breathing in air, he choked on filth and dust. Not that that bothered the man panting and grunting above him. His own hardened cock rubbed against his thighs and belly, caught between the two. On one level he hated it, but on another he couldn’t deny that he needed release, however it could be achieved. He might have preferred to let loose his anger, or spend the hours weeping out his loss. Instead, he screamed it out as he came, hard, all over himself. Moments later, he could feel Cullen’s spunk spurting into him in several warm, pulsing jolts. It made him feel sick, but he swallowed back his bile.

‘Mmm. You were good tonight Anders. No need to ask if you liked it, hey? Not when you’re covered in the evidence.’

Despite his words, Anders knew he wanted to hear it. Biting back a sigh, he whispered the words.

‘Thank you Knight Captain Ser. I loved it.’

‘I know you did. You always do, don’t you my little slut?’

‘Yes ser. Always.’

It started to get harder after that, and Anders wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it the loss of Karl? A sign that Cullen’s protection might not be worth this after all? Or was it Hawke? Always there, so close and yet completely beyond his reach. Dropping subtle hints that he might be interested, such tantalising, heart-breaking little suggestions of what could be. How could he happily throw himself on his knees for Cullen, when he longed for Hawke? And knew that so long as he let the templar use him, he was not worthy of the man he truly desired. Worse than his own confusion, Cullen had somehow picked up on his growing reluctance, and that meant nothing good for the mage.

It was late one evening, as he dragged himself down to the clinic after a long day spent chasing bandits with Hawke that he found Cullen waiting for him. The man greeted him coldly.

‘Where have you been? I wanted you.’

‘I was busy. I’m sorry.’

‘Busy? No Anders. You don’t get to be too busy to see me. Not ever.’

'I-it won't happen again.'

‘It won’t happen again SER.’

Cullen slapped him, hard, across the face. And the violence was something Anders had never seen from him before. Certainly, there had always hung over them the threat of what Cullen could do to him. Back at the circle in Ferelden, he could have seen Anders locked up or otherwise punished. Here, he could do far worse. Death or tranquillity were ever present risks. Yet outright threats had never been Cullen’s style, and he had never needed to resort to such clumsy shows of power before.

He pushed Anders roughly to the floor, sneering.

‘I will teach you to be too busy to see me, slut. I want to see you grovelling at my feet, begging to be forgiven.’

On his knees, Anders bowed his head in submission. ‘I am sorry Ser. It won’t happen again. Please.’

‘Not good enough. That’s not grovelling. I want to see you squirming in the mud at my feet, and begging. Really begging.’

Flushing, Anders lowered himself until he was bowed down before Cullen. His forehead resting in the dirt by the man’s heavily reinforced boots. ‘Please Ser. It won’t happen again. Please forgive me. Please. I… I need you ser.’

‘Mmm. Better. What is it you need?’

‘I need you. I need your cock.’

‘Do you? I wonder… You spend all your time lately with others. Are you fucking them too? This Hawke and his brother? What about the dwarf? Do you get on your knees for him?’

‘No! No Ser. Only for you Ser.’

‘Truly? Are you sure you aren’t desperate for any cock? Because I know where there are plenty of men who would happily stick their dicks in you Anders. Men in armour like me, who can really put you in your place.’

As Cullen spoke, Anders felt the cold whisper of silence slip over him. He whimpered before he could stop himself. He had never ever raised a hand (magical or otherwise) against Cullen. There was no need for the man to do this to him, and as for the suggestion of handing him over to other Templars…

‘No. Please. Ser. Cullen. I want your cock. Just yours. Please.’

Cullen laughed, and it was harsh, bitter sound. Mocking. He nudged Anders head with one foot.

‘Then show me. I want you to worship every part of me.’  
The man’s boots were covered in the grime and much that you picked up if you walked the streets of darktown and lowtown. Anders tried not to think about that, think about what Cullen might have stepped in to get here as he placed a soft, reluctant kiss on the tips of his left boot. He licked it, tentatively. It was rough against his tongue. Above him he heard Cullen snicker, and then shift impatiently. So he switched to the other foot, before kissing and licking his way up the man’s armoured calves. Once he was above the knee, they were in more familiar territory and it wasn’t long before he found himself suckling with desperation at the man’s meaty dick. When he was done, Cullen pushed him away.

‘Good. Now I will want your services again in the next two days, but I need to be sure you won’t wonder off and find yourself ‘busy’ once more. So what shall I do?’

Anders swallowed nervously, unsure where this was leading. Cullen’s behaviour tonight had been different to usual, more forceful and threatening. He flinched when he saw the man drawing a large coil of rope out of a bag, but didn’t dare resist as he was bound, hand, foot, neck and chest to a chair. Worse, just before he left, Cullen scratched him along the cheek with a dagger coated in magebane.

‘There. Now you just sit there and wait like a good boy, and if you are good I will bring you a lovely treat when I get back. You don’t want to know what I will do if you’ve been bad.’

Then he left, locking the door behind him. Anders was left alone, helpless in the dark. He bit his lip, determined not to give in to the hopeless feeling that accosted him. It was impossible to resist however, and he soon found himself in tears.

There came many knocks at his door the next day, though no one tried too hard to get in and for that he was grateful. His heart had pounded so loudly in his chest he was amazed nobody heard it when Hawke appeared outside, complaining bitterly. Varric no doubt had the skill to get past his flimsy locks, but giving his professional opinion that there were no signs of foul play, and that Anders was therefore out or resting, he persuaded Hawke to do his own healing this once and they left without trying the lock. The day after, the knocks were less frequent. He could only hope people weren’t dying because of Cullen’s whims.

Right now however, he had concerns beyond his patients. Two days without food were a long time for anybody, but particularly one with a warden’s appetite and need for food. Worse, two days with no ability to make use of a chamber pot or privy were taking their toll. His bladder had started to be uncomfortably full mere hours after Cullen had left him. Now, it was beyond uncomfortable. It HURT. He was hot, sweaty and tearful, feverish with need and pain. More than once, he was certain a little urine had leaked out of him but he had resisted giving in to the need. The time was fast approaching however where he would have no choice in the matter.

Which was naturally when Cullen turned up once more. He took in the squirming mage with a sneer. Then he strode over to him, stroking his sticky, sweaty hair back off his face with a gentle touch.

‘Good boy. You’ve been a good boy. You can let it go now.’

Anders flushed, realising that this was what Cullen had intended all along, to see him desperate and unable to control himself. He almost wished he had given in earlier. True, it would have been shameful to be found in soiled clothing, but surely that would still have been better than being made to piss himself in front of the man, for his pleasure. Yet that is exactly what he did, unable to hold out any longer. Piss flooded his smalls, then his trousers. It leaked through the slats of the rickety old chair, forming a pool beneath him. By the end he was beet red with embarrassment, yet throughout Cullen petted him soothingly.

‘Good boy. You have no idea how beautiful you are Anders, when you give in to me. You are lovely.’

Anders was sure that he was not lovely, at least not at that precise moment. He stunk. He hadn’t bathed in two days, and he reeked of urine now as well as stale sweat. His damp hair stuck to his cheeks and the back of his neck, and his face was bright red. Still, he cried with relief when Cullen untied him, and pulled him into his arms. Hating himself, he let the templar cuddle him close as he wept.

‘Shush. It’s OK my Anders. My little mage. I will always look after you.’

Cullen helped him change, into his only other pair of trews. Helped him clean up, his hands soft and gentle, and as close to loving as Anders felt he deserved right now. He let the man stroke and caress him. Then later, at his master’s order – for there was no doubt now that this is exactly what Cullen was – he presented his arse, tilted upwards ready to be fucked.

This time, when Cullen was finished he dipped his fingers inside Anders, scooping out his cum and feeding it to the mage. Then he slid in a plug, which fitted just a bit too snugly.

‘So you are ready for me, whenever I want you. And you don’t forget me.’

And then he tied some soft cord, tight, around his balls and the base of his cock. ‘So you don’t forget who’s you are, and who gets to take care of you.’

‘Th-thank you Ser. ‘

Cullen lay back in the skimpy blankets that covered Anders cot. He gestured between his legs, at his semi erect cock. ‘Why don’t you crawl over here and thank me properly?’


	3. Chapter 3

From then on, being around Hawke was all but impossible. Every time he saw the man, his cock stirred. And every time that happened, the restriction he felt reminded him of Cullen. Not that he needed any more reminders, for the plug in his arse was reminder enough. He hated it. He despised having to remove it to void his bowels, and then to replace it again. He loathed the way it nudged at his most private spot every single time he moved, or sat, or shifted even a little bit. Every second of every day and night, Cullen was with him now, whether literally or not. He couldn’t escape him, the feel of him, and the knowledge that he truly owned him.

It was with mixed feelings that he noticed Hawke’s interest sliding from him to another. He had not the words to say how it hurt, seeing the little looks Fenris shared with the man. Awkward and clumsy they might be, but they were there. The elf was trying to flirt, to be intimate, in his own way. Painful as it was however, it was all the reminder he needed that he couldn’t have, and didn’t deserve Hawke. In some ways, seeing the man with somebody else and therefore off limits made it easier.

The night he saw them slip off together, heated gazes locked he found himself seeking Cullen out, sliding to his knees before the man and begging to be taken, hard. Pleased, the templar did so, fucking him until he bled, then making him pump himself until he came, hard, over the filthy floor of a lowtown alley. He thought it was his lowest point, the moment he finally accepted that this was all he was worth. But if it was a low point for him, it was nearly breaking point for Justice.

‘This cannot continue.’

‘What?’

‘This. It is wrong. We gain little, and you give up much.’

‘You are wrong Justice. He protects us, lets us do our work. And –and if it hurts then so what? It is what I deserve.’

‘It is NOT what you deserve. It is wrong. We have been wrong. It must stop.’

‘Oh? And how do we stop it? We can’t just kill him, he‘s Knight Captain! There will be more than a cursory investigation. And if I ask him to stop…’

‘Then what?’

‘Then he won’t Justice. And then I-I won’t be able to even pretend any longer that any of this was my choice. And I don’t think I can live with that.’

His voice was small, shaken and broken. As he had become. And he knew it was true. The last of his sanity hung by a tiny thread, kept in place only by the lie that this thing with Cullen was at least in part his choice, his decision. That he had agreed to it, for reasons that were real and valid, and not simply an illusion. He felt Justice withdraw, confused and concerned in equal measure. And he cried himself to sleep, trying not to think of Fenris and Hawke lost in a loving, gentle embrace. The like of which he would never know.

Everything changed with that night. He had gone to Cullen of his own free will, and that seemed to have flipped a switch inside the templar’s head. If he had felt powerful and in control before, then now he felt like a king or a god. Some nights he didn’t even fuck the mage, but had him fuck himself on a variety on implements, often times until he had injured himself. In fact, injuring the mage became a new favourite pass time. He left him bruised and bloody often now, usually with orders to heal only what showed. One night he experimented with candles, dripping wax that burned far too hot into Anders’ flesh. The worst night, was the one where he made Anders brand his own thigh with the word ‘whore’, leaving it until it had scarred beyond his ability to heal.

Slowly but surely, he trained the mage to come at his word, without even being touched. To become aroused in response to violence and to beg ever so nicely for whatever Cullen wanted to give him. And through it all, all Anders could hold on to was the knowledge that he had lost the one person he might ever have loved, and that somehow this was what he had chosen instead. Because he had to believe he had chosen it, anything else would have left him with nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

His own misery took up much of his time for a while, during which Anders was less observant than usual when it came to his companions. Even when it came to Hawke. This was how he missed at first that things were not quite right between Hawke and Fenris. In fact, things were a little strained and odd between them. In dribs and drabs he drew the story – or the little that was known of it anyway – out of Varric and Isabela. It transpired that Fenris had left Hawke, at the very moment their happiness seemed secured. Why, no one was sure. ‘Bela confided that a drunken Hawke had claimed no real knowledge of the whys and wherefores.

Fenris had always been far from Anders’ favourite person, but now his dislike of the elf reached a whole new level. The irritation he barely kept supressed mingled with the simmering jealousy of recent months. When that combined with his own bitterness and despair at his current situation, it was inevitable that some confrontation would occur.

It was after a night at The Hanged Man, during which he had lost heavily as usual. In part because he had been watching a mopey Hawke make hurt puppy eyes at Fenris, which did nothing to help his mood. When they left, instead of making straight for Darktown, he followed the elf, too angry to be subtle about it.

‘What do you want mage?’

‘What were you thinking?’

‘What?’

‘When you set out to break the heart of the best man you will ever meet. I was just wondering why that seemed a good idea. I mean, I’ve always known you were a selfish little… Hey!’

He found himself off his feet, back firmly against a wall, held up by the weight of Fenris pressed against him. The elf had his hands fisted in the front of his coat, lifting him and leaning in with his hips and chest to hold him in place.

‘Do not talk about what you cannot hope to understand mage.’

‘Oh, of course. I wouldn’t understand anything about a mage hating bastard hurting a mage…’

‘Shut. Up.’

Fenris sneered at him, lips curling. ‘Besides, it’s not like a little prick tease like you really cares is it?’

‘A… What do you mean?’

‘I watched you for months you know, making eyes, letting him get close. Flirting. But you never followed through, did you?’

Anders found himself lost at words, and just as he was about to put a plausible sounding sentence together he felt Fenris grind against him. Against his cock. His hard, throbbing cock. Because as messed up as his life had become, if it had been Cullen pushing him into a wall so hard his back bruised, it would have been foreplay. He flushed, unable to meet Fenris’ eyes.

‘See. You’re all talk, but like with everything else you just run away in the end. Isn’t that right, mage?’

If there was a little self-mocking tone to Fenris’ words, Anders was too busy struggling to take note of them. The elf stepped back, releasing him suddenly enough that he stumbled. Then he fled, making truth of Fenris’ words.

Naturally, he found Cullen waiting for him when he reached his clinic, longing for bed. The templar kept him up into the early hours, and it was almost dawn when he finally managed to settles his poor aching body down to rest. The only upside was that he was too worn out to think, which lately was just how he liked it.


	5. Chapter 5

'You want my cum inside you, don't you?'

Anders whimpered softly, biting his lip as the templar pounded into him, grinding his hands and knees into the floor with his weight. Cullen pulled back, almost all the way out and stopped a moment, panting. He was close, Anders could tell. There was a certain catch in his breath, a particular tightness in his limbs that the mage had come to know well. The man placed a sharp slap on Anders' right buttock, followed by five more in quick succession.

'Say it. Tell me you want my seed in you. That you need it.'

'I... I want you to come in me Ser. Please. I need you inside me.'

'Yes. Mmm.' Cullen slammed back into him, hard. 'You love it, don't you Anders?'

'I do. I love it'

Anders bit back a sob. It was an effort to try and hide his pain, his sorrow and his shame. Some days it hardly seemed worth it, and on those days he failed. But denying Cullen this final pleasure, keeping in tact the tattered remains of pride he tried to cling to was all he had left. It was the last lie, the one that let him hold on to the shreds of his sanity.

Cullen pushed in one last time, tensing with his weight pressed against Anders' back, his balls against his arse. He released a sigh as he came, spurting his load deep within the mage. After a moments rest he pulled out, slowly and carefully, squeezing Anders cheeks tightly together as he did so.

'Here. Hold yourself closed for me.'

'What? Why?'

Even as he asked the question, Anders did as he was told. He clenched his buttocks, reaching behind him to further push his cheeks together. Cullen slapped him again, no doubt for daring to ask a question. Then he smirked.

'Since you love it so much, I thought I'd let you keep my spunk in you all day. Now hold still until I have you all nicely plugged and secure.'

Anders felt his cheeks flaming. Every time he thought Cullen had run out of ideas with which to humiliate him, the man managed to introduce some new element to their relationship which proved him wrong.

It was only once Cullen had left that he dared get up and dress himself. Movement was difficult. The morning activities had been a little too rough for his liking, and he ached. Having the plug shoved in afterwards had not helped in the list, and when combined with the sperm still held within him it was far from comfortable. It chafed with every step, and when he sat to put on his shoes it pushed up inside him, causing the templar's spend to slide around. He felt repulsive, and he knew that was partly what Cullen intended.

Midmorning, Hawke arrived with Fenris and Isabela in tow. He only half listened as the man said something about the coterie, following him out with little idea of where they were going or what they were up to. Not that it mattered, of course. He would do as he always did, watch his companions for danger or injury, protecting where he could and healing where he could not. All the while, trying to stop himself watching Hawke, or being watched by Fenris. The former hurt too much, seeing what he couldn't ever have. The latter... Well, since their confrontation a fortnight previous, the elf often seemed to be watching him. With contempt no doubt. He only hoped that the warrior hadn't shared that night's event with anyone, especially Hawke. The lack of lewd commentary from 'Bela reassured him that she at least was none the wiser.

In the end, the coterie business took little time at all. The person they were looking for had managed to irritate his colleagues as much as he had Hawke. Which meant that he was easy enough to track down and dispose of. So rather than spending the best part of the day chasing people around and fighting, they ended up in The Hanged Man by last afternoon.

Fenris soon departed, clearly still a little uncomfortably around Hawke after whatever had happened between them. Anders was relieved to see him go. A short while later, Isabela came up with a flimsy excuse and left. Hmm. If Fenris had moved on to the pirate, then maybe Hawke was available once more. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought, the movement of the plug and sperm inside him a timely reminder that it didn't matter if he was.

Still, he was unable to drag himself away from Varric's quarters. Even when Fenris and 'Bela returned, a rather obvious thirty seconds apart. Even when Hawke's face fell, and he proceeded to down several pints in quick succession. It was only after the other mage had left that he himself stood to leave. Only to find Hawke waiting for him outside.

 

The dark haired mage sidled up to him, a predatory grin on his face.

'Anders! Just the man I was wanting.'

'H-Hawke. What can I help you with?'

'This!'

The man grabbed his hand, using it to pull Anders in close, and then placing it firmly over the rather sizable bulge hidden beneath his robes. Anders swallowed. There were so many reasons this couldn't happen. Firstly, Hawke was drunk. Secondly, he was on the rebound and really wanted Fenris. Though Anders was honest enough to admit that he would have settled for that, if it wasn't for the third issue. Cullen. If the templar ever found out...

Not that his hesitation was stopping Hawke, or his wondering hands. Which had found their way under his coat, around his waist. And were now travelling down, slipping inside his pants. Anders froze. He should be pushing the man away, telling him to stop. But he had wanted him, wanted this for so long. And even if he didn't deserve the man, what did it matter? Hawke only wanted him for one thing, and tomorrow nothing would have changed. But at least he would have had this one night...

Hawke's fingers stroked their way over his round, pert cheeks, seeking for cleft between them and the hidden treasure kept there. They found the wooden plug Cullen had settled in place that morning, shattering any foolish ideas Anders had about allowing this to continue.

Hawke chuckled. 'Someone expecting to get lucky tonight? You kinky little...'

'No!. Hawke, get off me. I need to go.'

'Oh no. I'm hardly going to let you go now am I? Not when you're all ready and waiting for-hey!'

Anders pushed him back, cheeks paling and flushing by turn. 'I-I'm sorry. I can't. He'd kill me.'

'Anders? Anders!'

He could hear the baffled, drunken voice calling him back but Anders kept walking away, speeding his pace until he was all but running. How could he have considered letting Hawke touch him when he had another man's cum inside him already? What sort of desperate little whore was he? How could he let a wonderful creature like Hawke lay so much as a finger on a dirty, soiled thing like him? Besides, Cullen would be expecting him tonight. After all, as had been pointed out only moments before, he was ready and waiting to 'get lucky'.


	6. Chapter 6

Anders stumbled back to the clinic, barely taking in his surroundings. It was just as well that he knew the way so well, because he could barely see through the tears he was fighting to blink back. By the time he reached home, he had almost pulled himself together. Which turned out to be a very good thing, as familiar footsteps behind him announced Cullen's arrival whilst he was still messing around with the lock.

The man was smiling, with a certain pleased gleam in his eyes that Anders had learned to dread. The mage swallowed back a bout of nausea as he turned to face the templar.

'Mm. Anders. Don't you look wonderful? All flushed and excited. I think you really liked carrying my seed all day, didn't you?'

Reluctantly, Anders nodded his head. It took him two tries to find his voice.

'Yes Ser. I liked it.'

'I bet all you've been thinking about all day is my cock, filling you with spunk. I bet you want more. Do you?'

'Yes.'

'Yes what?'

'Yes ser. I-I want more.'

'Then why don't you get on your knees and ask nicely?'

His eyes fell closed for a moment, trying to block out what was happening. Did Cullen really mean for him to beg, out here? Where any passing darktowner – one of his patients even – could see? It was a foolish question. That was clearly exactly what he wanted, and if Anders had learnt anything it was that Cullen didn't like to be denied. His cheeks burned with shame as he slid to his knees.

'Please Ser. Let me have your cock in me, filling me. Please.'

With a slow, casual pace, Cullen unbuckled and shifted enough of his armour to release his cock. He gave it a lazy stroke as he walked close to Anders, then let his hands drift to the mage's head. Anders gave up fighting the tears and let them fall as he took the man's thick, meaty prick into his mouth with practiced ease. With luck, he could get this done quickly and no one would see.

Only someone did see. Hawke had hesitated briefly, before deciding that he wasn't happy with Anders running off and leaving him like that. So he had made his own way to darktown. He had almost bumped into Cullen on the stairs to the clinic, but had let the templar pass with a polite nod. Then after hesitating only a moment, he had followed curious what the templar might want with Anders. Now he knew.

Anders looked beautiful on his knees, but he found himself grateful when Cullen moved closer, blocking the view. He didn't need to the see the man he had so recently propositioned with someone elses cock in his mouth. It would do nothing to improve his mood. First Fenris had run off with 'Bela and now this... It had been bad enough when he had been able to persuade himself that Anders wasn't playing because he was being all noble. But this wasn't noble. This was... This was letting a templar, the enemy, order him around.

Anders felt Cullen stiffen, then the man came with a grunt. He swallowed every last drop, knowing that he would be punished if any was allowed to spill. He glanced around, nervous. Whatever the templar wanted, he would give it so long as they could move this inside.

'I bet you'd like to come now, wouldn't you? Ask nicely and I might just let you.'

'Please Ser. Please let me come.'

'Good boy.' The templar strode to the doors, pushing them wide open. He glanced back over his shoulder, tapping his thigh. Obediantly, Anders crawled past him into the clinic. Cullen let his eyes raise the edge of the shadowed stairs leading to the clinic and smiled. Then he followed the mage inside and let the door fall closed behind them.

Hawke watched the closed doors for a full five minutes before he found the strength to move. He wasn't entirely sure what he had just witnessed. Anders had put up no complaint. Rather, he had done exactly what Cullen had ordered at every stage. Could he really enjoy such treatment? Could anyone? Troubled, and unsure if jealousy alone was to blame, Hawke finally turned and left.

Inside the clinic, Cullen stroked Anders hair soft. He petted the mage, letting his hands slide down his back, through his hair, rest against his cheek. With deft, careful hands he stripped his mage, taking each item of clothing and folding it neatly. This soft, careful treatment was rare and left Anders shivering, uncertain. What did it mean? Finally, Cullens fingers reached for his genitalia, untying the cord that bound his cock and balls.

'Good boy. You've done so well today Anders. You deserve a treat.'

He threw a small bottle of oil to the mage, then kicked over his staff.

'Now. I know how much you love your magic Anders. So why don't you oil that up and show me, show me how much you love your precious magic.'

Anders felt his eyes widen. One end of the staff was ornate, bladed and shaped like a woman. But thankfully that wasn't the end Cullen meant. Still, the other end was thick, the wood rough where it had scraped against the ground. Swallowing nervously, he twisted the lid off the bottle and carefully poured oil into his hands. Even as he reached for the staff, coating one end of it, his other hand slid towards his hole, pulling out the plug that still rested there.

Hours old cum dribbled from his arse, thick and congealing after all this time. Before setting to work with the staff, he worked his oiled fingers into his gaping hole, hating himself when his cock responded. Then he lay back, gently and carefully pulling the staff between his legs to rest against his arse. Swallowing nervously, he worked the wooden shaft until it finally popped through his ring. Then he twisted it, moving it until he was writhing almost against his will. Thankfully, after the continuous stimulation of the day, it didn't take him long to cum.

Then Cullen cleaned him up, still gentle. Still caring. If the man could ever be said to be such. And afterwards, the templar cuddled him against his chest, talking softly, soothingly. Confused, trembling, Anders gave in and sobbed against him.

'That's right Anders. As long as you do as your told, I will take good care of you. I'm all you need Anders. All you want. Isn't that right?'

'Yes. Yes Cullen. All I need.'


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke wasn't sure why exactly he had headed back to The Hanged Man. He wasn't really in the mood for more drinking. Or maybe he was. Strangely enough, watching Anders sucking off Cullen had been a sobering experience. He didn't quite make it inside however, bumping into Isabela in the doorway.

'Hawke! I thought you went home.'

'I-No. I didn't.'

'Obviously! What is it sweet thing. Tell auntie Isabela. Unless it's boring. If it's boring, I have more important people to be doing.'

'You're talking about Fenris again aren't you?'

'Ah. Is that why the sour face? If it bothers you, you know all you have to do is ask nicely and I'm sure Fenris would let you play too. In fact, just the other night he said that...'

'Bela! Please. I don't need to hear about it.'

'Oh. I disagree but fine. So, what's up then if it's not a certain elf?'

'You know about sex stuff don't you?'

'Well, only the basics. If by basics you mean everything that is.'

'Right. Well. Say I saw someone being ordered around. And they seemed to like it. Would that be a normal thing?'

'Ooh Hawke! You've been holding out on me. I always thought you'd be the dominant type, but if you aren't... I order you to come to the mansion with me and let Fenris fuck you whilst I watch. With ice-cream.'

'No! No, it's not me. I just... I saw someone, doing that. I mean, doing stuff that seemed a bit... Because someone else told them too. And it didn't seem right. But well... If people really do get off on that then I guess it's OK.'

'Ahh! So this is about Anders then.'

'What?!'

'Look Hawke, even when we had our little moment you were all about the mage. Or the elf. My point is, you like the boys and if it's not one it's the other.'

'I-I need to go.'

'Me too! I have a sudden urge...'

With that, the pirate was gone leaving an even more confused Hawke alone once more. He sighed, shaking his head. Drinking more was looking like a better idea by the minute. And at least Varric was unlikey to try and talk him into anyone's bed.

For Isabela, the night was looking up. Bumping into Hawke had given her some juicy gossip and excellent fantasy material. So, Anders liked the bossy type. That was... interesting. Particularly as Justice seemed the domineering type. All of a sudden, the fact that Anders was posessed didn't seem so awful. Not if he got off everytime the spirit told him to do something. It was a lovely idea, though she didn't think Fenris would appreciate her sharing it.

Not that she was inclined too. Fenris had been in an odd mood these past few weeks. All assertive and angry and just a bit rough, in all the right ways. He was certainly growing in confidence when he took control, and that was something she was never going to complain about. Tonight, he had been particularly thorough with her.

She lay back, letting her head fall onto the pillow.

'I don't know what's gotten into you lately Fenris, but I approve.'

'Good.'

She quirked an eyebrow. 'What were you thinking about? Or should I say who.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, it wasn't me. I mean, I think I played a part. Oviously. But I haven't done anything to make you angry lately, and I've had more than enough angry sex to recognise it when I have it.'

'I am not angry.'

'Oh, I forgot. Scowling is your happy face.'

'Do you want this to happen again?'

'Yes.'

'Then shut up.'

'I don't think so. You want it to happen again too. Now, who were you thinking of? Hmm. Not Hawke. You get sad when you think of Hawke. Ooh! Was it Anders? He makes you mad.'

'What? No. I was NOT thinking about the mage.'

'That's it isn't it? You were thinking about Anders! What was he doing, fucking Hawke?'

'I have already said I wasn't thinking about him. You are being ridiculous Isabela.'

'You don't have to worry about that you know. Anders is already otherwise occupied. Hawke saw him going at it with someone earlier. And I have to tell you it sounded really quite...'

'Enough. I'm going.'

'It's your house.'

'Fine then. You are going.'

'Alright, alright. But honestly, you boys would have a lot more fun if you just worked all this angst and anger out in the bedroom. My bedroom for preference.'

With a laugh, Isabela was out of the bed, into her boots and out of the door. Yes, tonight was a good night.


	8. Chapter 8

Weeks passed, and things between certain of the companions became somewhat strained. Well, in the case of Fenris and Anders, more strained. Hawke seemed to be avoiding the mage, Fenris noted. And when he did see him, his expression was all forced politeness. The same face he had worn when Fenris had first left, the one which meant he was hurting. And Fenris was not happy about that at all. Bad enough that he had hurt the man, but at least he had a troubled past and serious intimacy issues to blame. What was Anders' excuse? After all that time moping around, with his I'm-so-heartbroken-and-noble-keeping-my-distance schtick, and now it turns out he was simply busy fucking someone else. And then he had the nerve to tell Fenris off!

For Anders' part, he found it harder and harder to meet the gazes of any of his companions. He felt sick whenever Hawke so much as glanced his way, remembering the night he had almost given in the man's advances. Clearly Hawke regretted his drunken attempt, and for that Anders forced himself to be grateful. The days that he saw Hawke, he almost hoped to later see Cullen. There was a degree of twisted comfort to be found with the templar. Each night he let the man use him was one more night that proved he was doing the right thing distancing himself from Hawke. It was further proof that he didn't deserve the man.

As when Fenris had left Hawke, it was inevitable that the situation would come to a head. The night Fenris decided he could no longer take Hawke's sad eyes, lost in contemplation of a beer mug he marched to darktown. It was time someone put the mage in his place. Only when he got there, he found someone already doing exactly that.

Anders was sat on a table, herbs and potion bottles scattered around him. Cullen held his legs in place around his waist as he pounded into him. Which was when Anders heard the door go, saw the elf standing open mouthed in the clinic. Just staring. Anders squirmed, pushing at Cullen.

'Stop! Please, Cullen. Stop!.'

Cullen glanced over his shoulder, saw the elf and shrugged.

'Now now Anders. You don't give the orders here. Remember?'

'Please. Please stop. I'm begging you. Ser. Cullen. Please.'

In response, Cullen released the mage's legs, pulled back his fist and let it slam into Anders face. His nose crunched, eyes watering as he cried out in pain. His vision blurred, and he was only dimly aware of Fenris moving. Cullen barely spared a glance at the startled elf before resuming fucking the mage

'What exactly do you think you are going to do? I'm the Knight Captatin. He's an apostate whore. And you're an escaped slave squatter. So much as a word of this leaks out, and I can assure you that the templars will descend upon this place enmasse.'

Fenris faltered, unsure exactly what to do. Or what precisely was going on here. Cullen turned his full attention to the mage beneath him once more.

'I think you'd like that though, wouldn't you you slut. All that templar cock. You'd take them all. You'd guzzle down their spunk and rut like a bitch in heat. Wouldn't you?'

Whimpering, a broken whipser slid out past Anders bruised lips. 'Yes.'

'Yes. Yes. You'd let them all fuck you until you had their cum sliding out of every hole in your body. And then you know what would happen? Then, when they were tired of you, they'd have you made tranquil. And then I would do this to you every single night and you'd thank me for it.'

HE pushed into Anders, hard and fast. His face twisting in anger. 'Thank me for it! Now.'

But Anders simple stared at him, gaze wide and empty. This had been the final straw. The moment he had asked for it to stop and been denied. The moment he could no longer hide from what was happening. And Fenris, of all people, had been there to witness it. It was more than Anders could take, and now there was no where he could run. So he simply retreated, deep inside his mind.

And Justice had free reign.

As soon as he saw the blue glow breaking through the mage's skin, Fenris moved. Without needing to spare precious seconds planning, he simply found his sword in his hands and ran at the templar. Whatever happened now, Cullen couldn't make good on any of this threats if he was dead. And whatever Fenris felt about the mage, no one deserved such a future. Justice was clearly in full agreement, and for the first time ever elf and spirit worked together.

Side by side, they rent into Cullen. Fenris sword carved into his back, Justice hands rent his skin from his flesh. It was a short, bloody battle of the sort that would have sickened Fenris if he had been calmer. Once it was done, he simply stood there, panting and surveying the remains.

Then the bruised, bloody form of the mage cocked it's head, blue still streaming from it's face.

'He can not be found here. We must move him.'

'If you go out like that, we won 't have time to move him. I'll deal with it. You... Bring Anders back.'

When Fenris returned from disposing of the body, he found Anders sitting slumped on the floor. His eyes were wide and vacant. Every part of him, from his lips to his hands to his limbs trembled. His teeth chattered, his hands shook. Shock perhaps. Whatever, it was beyond Fenris' ability to deal with. Swearing, he pulled the mage up, flushing when he noticed that his pants still hung down around his ankles. With clumsy hands, he dressed the unresisting mage. Finally, throwing that awful feathered coat around the man's shoulder, he lead him from the clinic and make for hightown. Hawke would know what to do. He hoped.

Given how badly the rest of the day had gone, it should have come as no surprise that Hawke wasn't home. Sandal let them in without a word, taking in the shaking mage with a single troubled glance. He lead them to the spare room and left them to it. Fenris seated the mage on the bed and then stood back, uncertain. He should go and find Hawke. Or Varric. Or even Isabela. She might know what to do. Beneath her often callous exterior he had noted occasional glimpses of a softer, more caring woman. Whatever the case, he knew only that he was in no way equipped to deal with the situation.

As he turned to leave, a harsh whisper stopped him.

'Fenris. Please. Don't tell Hawke.'

'What?'

'Don't. Please. I-I'll do whatever you want. Just don't tell anyone. Please.'

The man was sliding off the bed, onto his knees and a wave of nausea left Fenris gagging.

'Stop it. Now. Just... I will be back shortly. Fix your face. Sleep. Do whatever you want.'

He fled, leaving the mess that was formally his despised companion behind him. Anders touched his hand to his face, tracing his busted nose, blackening eyes and swollen lips. Of course. Why would Fenris want anything of him when he looked like this? It took moments to fix it, at least enough that he looked only a little bruised and ached only a little. The damage went beyond the physical though, and that he had no idea how to fix.


	9. Chapter 9

Fenris all but ran to The Hanged Man, certain that if Hawke wasn't at home then he must still be there. Hawke was indeed there, nursing a beer and looking morose despite Isabela and Varric's attempts to cheer him up. The pirate looked up as Fenris entered, her filthy smile slipping from her face as she took in his distressed appearance. Fenris was a master at hiding his feelings, at least when they weren't rage related. For him to look so upset something terrible must have happened.

Hawke was on his feet in minutes. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'Yes Fenris. Has something happened?'

That was Aveline, and her cool calm presence was exactly what Fenris needed right now. He focussed on her, unable to deal with Hawke right away.

'There was... an incident. Cullen. He. I. Justice. He's dead.'

'Cullen's dead? Shit! When? Where? We should-'

'We should make sure no one investigates too closely. I... The body has been taken care of.'

'Wait. Fenris, why exactly are we covering up the murder of the Knight Captain?'

'Because he was... He raped Anders.'

Aveline frowned, trying to follow what the elf was trying to tell her. Beside her, Hawke paled and Isabela shook her head.

'No no. Anders likes it's rough. Doesn't he Hawke? Hawke?'

Fenris grimaced. 'There is rough and there is rape Isabela. Trust me when I say I know the difference.'

'Where is he now?'

Hawke's voice was barely a whisper, it was so quiet. So strained.

'At your house. But Hawke...'

'What?'

'Be careful. He's fragile.'

Hawke nodded briefly, then he was gone.

Fenris slumped into a chair, picking up what was left of Hawke's drink and downing it. Wordlessly, Varric left to get some wine and Isabela dropped into the chair beside him, her hand coming to rest gently on his knee.

'Aveline... I know you should probably be arresting me or something right now. But this isn't the first time we've had to deal with someone and I...'

'Say no more about it Fenris. I can't and won't condone murder. But-But under the circumstances, I think I can pretend I didn't hear this concersation. That might be best for everyone.'

With a troubled look on her face, the guard captain left. Isabela followed and then returned a few moments late, assuring Fenris that Aveline was going to let them know if anyone turned up anything which might incriminate him. After that, silence reigned in Varric's rooms as the remaining companions drank until sleep took them where they sat.

 

Hawke made it home in record time, but once he got there he hesitated. A hushed converstaion with Bodhan followed his arrival at the house. Sandal was cuddled up with Barkspawn by the hearth. Apparently, he had been most upset by the state the mage had arrived in. There had been no noise from the spare room since just after Fenris left, when there had been a brief bout of audible weeping.

With some trepidation, Hawke headed towards the room. He pushed at the door, finding it unlocked and falling easily open. Anders was curled up on the bed, above the covers and still fully dressed. Much of his hair had worked it's way loose of the tie he used to keep it out of his face, and it fell in tangled clumps onto his shoulders, a few strands trailing across tear stained cheeks. He moaned in his sleep, hands scrabbling momentarily at thin air before he fell silent once more. He looked small on the bed, almost child like with his flushed cheeks and occasional whimpers.

Watching him, Hawke felt his heart catch. He had wanted the mage for so long, yet had allowed himself to be put off, finally seeking solace with Fenris. Which had been something of a disaster from start to finish. Yet he had never stopped wanting the mage, and now he couldn't help but wonder. If he had tried harder, given in less easily would this still have happened?

And what about that night a few weeks past? The one which had so tormented him since? Had That been forced upon the mage too? Just how long had this been going on, without anyone the wiser? Feeling sick to his stomach, Hawke swallowed back bitter tasting bile. There would be time later to figure out the details of what had been done to Anders. Right now, what mattered was ensuring his safety here and now.

As if sensing the eyes of another upon him, Anders stirred. He blinked sleepy eyes, looking around in momentary confusion. Realising where he was and just who was watching him, the mage scrambled to sit up.

'Hawke! I'm sorry. I should go.'

'You should stay. You'll be safe here.'

'Oh. Thank you.'

Trying not to give in the awkward silence and leave, Hawke forced himself to walk to the bed and sit next to his friend.

'Are you OK?'

'Oh. Y-yes. I'm fine.' He smiled, weakly, unable to meet Hawke's concerned gaze. 'Thank you, for letting me stay here. I-I suppose Fenris told you?'

'Yes. I'm so sorry Anders. Truly. If I had known...'

'If you had known, what?'

'I wouldn't have let him hurt you Anders. I'd have stopped him. Killed him if I had to.'

For reasons Hawke couldn't understand, his words seemed to undo his fellow mage. Anders' face seemed to collapse under a sudden flood of tears. A wail escaped from him as he threw himself onto the floor, weeping.

'No! That can't be true. It can't.'

'Anders?'

'I-I thought... But... Why would you have done that? I thought you would have hated me. Been... disgusted with me. For letting him...'

Anders disolved into tears once more, and fighting back tears of his own Hawke lowered himself to the ground beside him. Gently, cautiously, he pulled Anders into his arms.

'Oh Anders. I could never hate you. Never.'

For a moment, Anders snuggled into the man. This was what he had dreamed of for so many years now. Not Cullen holding him close with false comfort, but the real thing, from the man he loved. Only as soon as the thought of Cullen crossed his mind, he remembered that it was he who had last held him so. Who has last soothed his tears and he pushed himself away.

'Don't, Hawke. Please.' He flinched suddenly, as if expecting Hawke to react to his words with violence. Trembling, he lowered his gaze to the floor. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... If you want to touch me, you can. I'll do whatever you want.'

Hawke's face twisted in anger, and he was glad Anders was too busy looking at the floor to see it. In his current state, he was all too likely to assume that anger was directed at him. For a moment he was furious that Cullen was dead already, wishing it had been he who had been there to tear the man to shreds. It hadn't been, but he was here now. Taking a slow breath, he counted to ten, trying to find some inner calm to see him through this.

'No one touches you without your permission Anders. I mean it, not even me. For now, you should get some sleep. I'll get Orana to bring you a night shirt.'

Hawke stood, fighting the desire to take Anders back into his arms. Much as he longed to, there seemed no way of telling if Anders wanted that too or would simply allow it. Moving quietly, so as not to startle the tormented mage, he left the room to speak with Orana and call Barkspawn. Then he came back, knocking softly on the door before he walked in.

'Orana is going to bring you some clothes, for tonight and the morning. And a warm drink. You look like you need one.'

Anders shrugged, his drawn face a little dazed and vacant looking. Barkspawn wondered over, nuzzling at the mage, licking traces of blood and tears from his cheek. Slowly. Anders responded to the dog, cuddling up to him and letting a trembling arm slide over his back. Hawke tried to smile.

'I'll leave you to it then. If you need anything, well I am at your disposal.'

'Thank you Hawke. I-I appreciate this.'

'It's not a problem Anders. And... As long as you are staying here, you may as well call me Ethan.'

'Ethan.' He whipsered the name, trying it out. Then nodded, sleepily.

Hawke slipped out of the room, passing Orana on her way in. He waited a while after Orana had left before sticking his head round the door. Between the blankets and the huge mabari covering him, the only parts of Anders visible were a spash of red gold hair and a single hand. However the soft snores were enough to reassure Hawke that the mage was sound asleep. Barkspawn huffed once, and Hawke nodded. Yes, it would be good for his pet to stay here and keep an eye on things. He knew the dog would come and get him if there was need, whereas Anders might not feel able to.

Closing the door behind him, he made his way to his own room, too tired to think clearly, but too troubled to really sleep. It was going to be a long night.


	10. Chapter 10

As Hawke had predicted, that first night was a long one indeed. The days and nights which followed were not much easier. Anders was a wreck. He flinched at any sudden movement, startled easily and still struggled to meet Hawke's gaze. Those were only the obvious issues however. It soon became clear that other things he struggled with were asking for anything – whether that be food, fresh bedding or even permission to borrow a book. Likewise, he was a little too quick to thank Hawke for every little thing, seeming nervous when he did so.

Recalling the incident he had witnessed, Hawke felt anger rise within him again. It seemed obvious now that Anders had grown used to begging for what he needed or wanted – or rather what he was told he wanted. Likewise, thanking Cullen had been an almost daily task for him, regardless of the treatment he had known at the man's hands.

They talked a little over those first few days, enough that Hawke started to form a picture of the relationship between Cullen and Anders. The more he knew, the sicker he felt. The man had used Anders, abused him horribly. And it had been going on for years, longer even than he had known him. That hurt, to think that he had never known an Anders who wasn't being hurt, humiliated and degraded at another's whim.

Perhaps worst of all, Anders didn't seem to know how to function now that Cullen was gone. Left to his own devices he managed to eat regularly, but otherwise rarely thought to see to his own needs. More than once, he crept up on Hawke and dropped to his knees, trying to 'thank' him for letting him stay. Each time Hawke gently rebuffed him he seemed to panic, begging not to be thrown out and asking what Hawke wanted from him. The idea that Hawke simply wanted him to stay here and recover seemed beyond him.

There were moments however when there seemed to be hope. Like right now. They were sat in the library, Hawke on a comfortable chair and Anders nearby on the floor. Barkspawn lay sprawled between them. It was a cosy scene, and for the first time since he arrived here Anders seemed to be relaxing.

'Ethan?'

'Hmm?'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course!'

Hawke put down the book he was reading, giving Anders his undivided attention. Anders looked up at him, smiling a little nervously.

'I-I just wanted to know. Are you really OK with me staying here. I could go back to my clinic now if you wanted. C-Cullen's dead, and the templars have already searched darktown. I'd be safe enough.'

'Yes. But, do you really want to go Anders? I'm happy for you to stay here as long as you want to.'

'Oh.'

The mage looked crestfallen, as if he hadn't gotten what he wanted from the conversation. Hawke sighed.

'Anders, what is it?'

'I-I don't know what to do.'

'About what?'

'About staying here.'

'I've just said. Stay as long as you want to, but I won't keep you here if you wish to leave.'

'But... I don't know what you want me to do.'

'Oh, Anders. What do YOU want?'

Anders bit his lip, blinking back a tear before he answered in a whisper. 'I want to stay.'

'Then I want you to stay too. OK?'

'OK.'

Anders let out a sigh of relief, and Hawke pretended to return to his book. He watched his companion carefully however. Slowly, Anders shuffled his way past Barkspawn until he was leaning against Hawke's chair. When that didn't cause any uproar, he shifted again until he was leaning against Hawke's knee. Hawke stilled, not daring to move unless he scared Anders away. As the minutes passed, they both relaxed.

It was nice, being so close to Hawke. Anders lay his head carefully against his knee, waiting to see what the other mage would do. He held his breath. Nothing. He wasn't pushed away, but neither was there a hand guiding him between his legs, or patting his head like he was a dog. For a moment he floundered. What did this mean? Did Hawke not want him? But, he hadn't been pushed away either. And really, he didn't want to be treated like a pet any more than he wanted to be punched or slapped. So maybe this was OK. It felt OK.

Drowsy, Anders snuggled up against Hawke's legs and closed his eyes. He felt Barkspawn get up and move closer, snuggling around him so that he lay against his legs. It was warm, and safe and comfortable. Above him, he heard Hawke giggle.

'C'mon you two. I think we need to get you to bed. I can finish my book there.'

Sleepily, Anders let Hawke draw him up and lead him to his bedroom. He realised Hawke was going to leave him there, and go to his own room and the thought of spending another night alone seemed impossibly hard.

'Please, Hawke. Ethan. Stay. Please. Please.'

Hawke winced at the pleading, begging tone. 'I'll stay Anders, if you like. You only need to ask.'

They changed in silence, and once they were in the bed Anders lay stiffly on his back. He wanted to cuddle up to Hawke, but wasn't sure what was allowed. Then Hawke shifted beside him and he glanced up. There was Hawke's beautiful face, eyes warm, arms open in invitation. With a little sob, he rolled over against Hawke, snuggling close. And that's where he stayed, all night. And that night, there were no bad dreams.


	11. Chapter 11

The first time Hawke succeeded in coaxing Anders out of the house and into The Hanged Man managed not to be a total disaster. That wasn't to say it was easy however. The first hurdle to overcome was Anders' embaressment and shame as the realisation that everyone knew what had been done to him finally sank in. With Hawke, he had slowly started to relax, to fall back into his more usual patterns of behaviour. Only that morning he had engaged in a discussion on the merits and flaws of the circle.

Yet the moment they got into the pub and Varric's rooms, his eyes were firmly settled on the floor once more. He refused to look at anyone, barely spoke and flushed red everytime anyone addressed him. To say that the atmosphere was awkward and strained was to put it mildly.

That said, there were some positives. He didn't leave, or run away. The card game gave everyone a useful focus, so the attention wasn't all on him. And then there was Fenris. The elf didn't do or say much, but he sat on Anders' other side and his presence seemed to have a calming effect. Of course, the elf had been the one to save him. Which had caused Hawke more than a few moments of jealousy, in both directions.

Which in turn lead to the main positive for Hawke. He had been hurt when Fenris started sleeping with Isabela, but that pain paled when compared to the discomfort he felt at the idea that Anders might be interested in the elf. Partly, that was the residual feelings he still had for the lyrium imbued man, but mostly it was the thought of Anders with someone, anyone other than him. Given what he was learning of Anders time with Cullen, such possessiveness was something he would have to keep well in check, but it reassured him to know once and for all where his feelings lay.

For his part, Fenris divided his attention between the game and the two mages sat to his left. He had spent much time thinking about how and why his relationship with Hawke had failed. It was painful, and seeing the way the man looked at Anders didn't help. But at least he had Isabela, and truly he was not ready for anything more than the no strings, casual affair he had with the pirate. Feelings were still something he found hard to deal with.

Anders was an emotional man though, and always had been. It was, he knew, one of the things Hawke so loved about him. If Anders were to become like him, unable to trust or love because of how he had been damaged... Well, that was something he didn't want to see happen. He wasn't ready yet to admit that the idea of the mage being so hurt bothered him. It was hardly a secret that Hawke's well being mattered to him however, and Hawke would be devestated if Anders was never to recover.

He nodded to himself, decision made. Tomorrow, he would visit Anders and speak with him. The sooner the mage started to acknowledge and deal with his fears, the faster he would heal. A healed Anders would lead to a happy Hawke. And after running out the way he had, Fenris owed Hawke, at least a little.

Anders couldn't quite bring himself to join in with wicked grace. Instead, he nestled into his chair between Fenris and Hawke and watched his friends and companions play. Every time he caught one of them looking at him, he had to fight the urge to get up and run. The looks were a mixture of pity and curiosity, for the most part. Anders wasn't sure how to feel about that. It all made him rather uncomfortable, but at least it wasn't disgust. He had been expecting revulsion, or anger. Or amusement. That might have been the worst, to walk in here and find Varric telling the story of how Anders bent over for a templar, whilst the others passed mocking comments.

So, the night might not have been ideal but the odd look he could proably deal with. Even so, as soon as the last hand was played and the game wrapped up, he was keen to leave. Once they had returned to the safey of Hawke's home – he refused to consider it his home, it wasn't – they could go to bed.

A real bed was a luxury after all those years of roughing it on his rickety old cot. Better still was being able to cuddle up with Hawke. There was always a moment, every night, when Hawke first climbed into bed with him that he expected the man to lay hands on him. Or tell him to get on his knees, or crawl between his legs. That never happened though, and soon enough he would find himself burrowing into Hawke's chest, snuggling up to him, feeling the comforting strength of his arms around him. Then he could rest, at last and sleep. It was his favourite part of every day.

Sometimes, waking up was the hardest part. He would come round slowly, happy to be held. Then he would panic, because Cullen never let him sleep when he was around. Then he would calm again, realising that this wasn't Cullen. But some days, he would wake hard and aching. Those days were the worst days. It would be so easy to just lean over and kiss Hawke, or to slide down the bed and take him into his mouth. But would Hawke want him to? And whenever he thought about it, thought about Hawke making the same observations Cullen had, about how desperate he was for cock, about much he liked being used, then Anders could only try and stifle the sobs. The thoughts made him feel sick, and he never felt quite right for the rest of the day.

When they returned home from the pub however, he determined to forget about such things. For now, all he had to do was change into the long, voluminous night shirt Hawke had given him, climb into bed and then wait for Hawke and Barkspawn to join him.


	12. Chapter 12

It was late the next day when Anders heard a knock at the door. Hawke had headed out only an hour before, heading to the wounded coast. He was unlikely to be back before night fall, and would have no need to knock before heading in. Which meant it was somebody else. The mage swallowed, nervous. Who was it, and what did they want? He didn’t need to wait long for his answer, as Bodhan appeared from somewhere to answer the door.

The low, growling voice gave Fenris away even before he stepped inside, engaging in the briefest of pleasantries with the dwarf. Bodhan was nodding, waving his hand upstairs. And then Fenris looked up, spying Anders stood on the landing. He cursed himself for hesitating there, instead of hiding out in the bedroom. Not that there was any reason for him to be afraid of the elf. He never had been before, and it annoyed him that he was now. Holding his head high, determined to face this fear at least, he headed downstairs.

‘Anders.’

‘Fenris. Hawke isn’t here.’  
‘I know. I hoped to speak with you.’

‘Oh. I… Would you like a drink?’

Anders glanced around hopefully, but Bodhan had already made himself scarce. Barkspawn had gone with Hawke, and for once Sandal was nowhere to be seen. Right now, he would really have appreciated the odd dwarfs company. Fenris shifted, picking up on Anders’ discomfort.

‘A drink is not necessary. Perhaps we could sit somewhere?’ He cast around for a place Anders might feel more at ease. ‘The library perhaps?’

There. The mage loved books, and he himself could not read. Perhaps, in surroundings so much more suited to himself Anders would relax a little. Books had always seemed to be of comfort to the mage, and he knew that the conversation he had planned would likely unsettle him further.

‘Yes. Fine. Th-this way.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Fenris struggling to find the words he needed to get this conversation going. Anders, for his part, tried to still his racing thoughts. With one breath he was berating himself for feeling fear when alone with his saviour, with the next he was imagining all the different reasons Fenris might want to be alone with him. Was the elf jealous of the attention Hawke was paying him, or was he here to demand payment for saving Anders, now that his face was mended and more pleasing to look upon? Then again, he reminded himself that for all their past differences, Fenris had never given him reason to fear such treatment from him. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, he turned a trembling gaze upon the elf.

‘Fenris, please. Wh-why are you here?’

‘Calm yourself mage. I am here to talk, nothing else.’

‘To… talk?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about?’

‘Hawke.’

Ah. So it was the jealousy thing. Still, it the elf had murder in mind he probably wouldn’t have knocked on the door, in broad daylight. Nor was he likely to waste time talking that could be spent literally tearing his heart from his chest. Anders took a slow, deep breath and willed his heart to slow.

‘You aren’t happy with me being here? I-I can understand that. I don’t deserve him, I know.’

‘That’s not it. Or rather, it is but not in the way you think.’

The two men blinked at each other, both confused by the turn this conversation had taken. Anders was utterly bewildered now, with no idea what to think. There was an edge to Fenris’ voice, besides his almost ever present anger. If it had been someone else, he might have said it was sympathy.

‘Anders… I am not good at this. Talking. If I wanted to upset or offend you, that would be easy enough. If I do so now, know that I do not mean to. But yes, I want to speak to you about you and Hawke.’

Anders nodded, indicating that Fenris should continue. The elf, eager to get this done with now that he had worked up the courage to start it was almost grateful that the mage was willing to listen.

‘I care, about Hawke. There are times, even now, when I wonder what might have been between the two of us. If I had not walked away. It is not a good feeling Anders. Seeing him so hurt, so sad after I left… It was hard. Harder still, when with all of my being I wished I had only had the strength to stay.’

‘I don’t understand. If you wanted to stay, why didn’t you?’

Fenris steeled himself, visibly tensing. ‘I was afraid. Much as I wanted to be with Hawke, the memories that our relationship stirred in me… I could not be with him. Not without dealing with my past.’

‘I’m sorry Fenris. I had no idea…’

‘No. But I do.’

‘Do what?’

‘Have an idea. What it feels like, to see what you want but to not have the courage to fight for it. Hawke deserves to be happy Anders. I think he was, with me. I think he could be, with you. Don’t make the same mistake I did.’

‘Wait! Are you telling me to…? What are you telling me to do?’

‘Let him love you Anders. He wants to, he already does. And you love him, as much as I do-did. Maybe even more.’

‘How can I? How can I let him touch me, be with me after what I… I can’t.’

‘Then you are a fool. Would you be like me, full of bitterness and regret for the rest of your days? Anders, he has chosen you. He wanted you before he knew about … that. He still loves you, even knowing about it. Have you ever stopped to consider that if someone like Hawke thinks you are worth loving, maybe you are?’

Anders spluttered, unable to find enough words to form a sentence. Some part of him knew that what Fenris said made sense. He wanted, so badly, to believe that he was worth something, worth loving. Yet it took more than the words of one elf to undo the years of damage Cullen had inflicted upon him. The fact that it was Fenris saying it did slowly sink in however. They had never been friends. Until the day Fenris had walked into the clinic, seen him being fucked by Cullen, they had barely even tolerated each other’s presence. Fenris was possibly the last person he had ever anticipated telling him he should try and make a go of things with Hawke.

‘I… I will try.’

‘Good. That’s all I can ask.’

Fenris was gone before Anders had time to ask him anything of his own feelings. He had a sense that someone else might have been able to handle the whole situation with more skill and grace, perhaps more tact. Still, he had achieved what he had set out to do. And if some part of him ached, made his split with Hawke more real, then so be it.

He didn’t think about where he was heading when he left, he just walked. There was no real surprise when his steps lead him to The Hanged Man however. Varric was out with Hawke, but Isabela was seated in her usual spot at the bar. She looked up with a grin when he entered, somehow anticipating his arrival as always. The genuine pleasure in her eyes lifted his bruised heart a little. Perhaps it was not yet entirely broken.

If he was a little quiet for the first hour, Isabela talked enough for both of them. He would never truly stop loving Hawke, but might not be a bad thing. It was a good hurt, in a way. His first love affair may not have been a success, but it had been with the greatest man he was ever likely to meet, which counted for something.

Besides, Isabela might not have been a great and noble hero, but she was still magnificent. Beautiful, warm, clever and alive in a way that so few people were. And if what they shared wasn’t love, it still brought a smile to his face, it still got his heart beating. In her arms, he felt free.


	13. Chapter 13

Over the next few days, Anders thought often about the conversation he had shared with Fenris. In his years as a healer he had come across many who had suffered through traumatic events. Whilst his area of expertise was in healing physical injury he had always tried to help with those internal pains too. It was odd to think of himself as someone who might now need to address wounds which were more mental, emotional than physical. So hard to try and think of himself in that way, which meant accepting finally that what Cullen had done to him over the years was something wrong. Something which perhaps he hadn’t deserved.

Yet Anders had never thought of himself as a victim, and it was uncomfortable to start now. If he couldn’t do it for himself, perhaps he could try for the sake of the man he loved. And if he was a victim, well that meant he could be healed. After all, he had dedicated his life to doing just that. Treating those who were victims of poverty, war, acts of violence or illness. Now it was time to fix himself, but the task was daunting. He had long thought of himself as someone who was damaged, broken and not deserving of the effort it would take to change that. Now, he had to make that effort.

It was easier said than done however. He tried to broach the subject with Hawke, more than once. To try and tell him that he cared for him, deeply. That if he was still interested in him, then he was prepared to try. Years of keeping quiet about his deeper feelings worked against him now however. This wasn’t the place for sarcastic quips or awful puns, nor was it the time for rants about injustice – though a certain spirit disagreed. It was a shock to realise than when it came to this, to how he really felt, he had somehow lost the ability to talk.

So it was perhaps inevitable that in the end he would chose action to get things started. The next time he woke hard and wanting, once he had beaten down the initial panic he made his move. A small one, but it was a beginning. Instead of rolling on his side, trying to hide the evidence of his desire, or fleeing the bed, he shifted closer to Hawke. Turning in the strong arms which held him, he ended up facing the man, his head snuggled into his shoulder, his stomach against Hawke’s own belly and his hardness pressed tight against the man’s thigh. Then he waited.

For Hawke’s part, he stirred as the mage moved. He was about to open his eyes, to say good morning when he felt the erection pressing against him. Interesting. He had never called Anders on his failed attempts to hide such matters previously, sensing that the man wasn’t yet ready to admit to his attraction. He waited a moment, uncertain if Anders was awake or not, then he cautiously opened his eyes and glanced over at his bed partner.

He was confronted with wide,, nervous eyes and smiled his reassurance. For a while, neither moved. Then Hawke gently raised a hand to stroke back Anders’ hair, which had fallen into his face. When Anders didn’t pull away, he tilted his head and moved in for a gentle kiss. It was almost chaste, barely a touch of tongues, soft and slow. It was divine. Then he pulled away.

Anders let his eyes flutter closed as Hawke kissed him. He waited for it to turn rough, but it didn’t. He almost wished it would, so that he could be certain of the man’s passion for him. Then Hawke altered his position, just enough that Anders could feel the man’s slowly swelling cock. He swallowed, nervous and uncertain. He wanted this man, so much. Why couldn’t he just act on it?

That night, the one where a drunken Hawke had expressed his interest, the only thing holding him back had been a fear of Cullen finding out. He hadn’t once been afraid of engaging in sexual activity with him. What had changed now? Was it simply that now, Hawke knew? That everyone knew, what had been done to him. What he had allowed to be done to him. Did that really change things so much? Deep down, he knew that it did, because the night Fenris had walked in and seen had changed everything. It was impossible now to cling to his desperate belief that he had chosen Cullen, had wanted the man. And if he had been able to fool himself into accepting the templar’s attentions as a thing he desired, could he trust his feelings on anything else?

Hawke was watching him, carefully, still stroking his hair. It was soothing, calming. But hadn’t that been the case even when it was Cullen touching him so? Confused, he dropped his head a little, unable to meet Hawke’s gaze. The other mage sighed, softly.

‘Anders? Is this OK? Is it what you want?’

Only, even as he heard the words his mind was rearranging them. Instead of a question, they became a statement. ‘This is what you want.’ He flinched, pushing himself away.

‘Ethan, I’m sorry. I c-can’t do this now. I…’

‘Shh. Anders, it’s OK. I told you, no one - even me – will ever touch you against your will. We don’t have to do this. It’s alright.’

‘I-I don’t know what I want. I don’t. ‘

Only it was a lie. He did want Hawke. He did. Even in his current state of distress, his swollen, aching prick was proof of that. It was just that he didn’t know how to proceed, what to do next. It had been easier, in some ways, with Cullen. When his own wants hadn’t mattered, had been decided for him.

‘Can’t you tell me what you want Hawke? That might be… easier.’

‘Anders, no. And please, please don’t call me Hawke when we’re in bed together. This isn’t happening unless it’s what we both want. OK?’

Anders nodded, sighing. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind and think. He wanted Hawke. Hawke clearly wanted him. There, that much was simple. If Hawke wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted, then Anders would just have to guess. In his experience, what men (Cullen) wanted was to be inside him, one way or another. Yet Hawke had previously rejected his attempts to go down on him. Making a decision, Anders counted to ten as he took a deep breath in, then out. Certain now that his voice wouldn’t shake, or otherwise betray his nerves he spoke.

‘I want you inside me Ha-Ethan. Please. I want your cock in me.’

As he spoke, he felt Hawke’s hardness swell further against him. The man was sizeable, and his body at least was keen. Hawke groaned, his eyes slanting with desire. For a moment, Anders thought that it was really going to happen, and was surprised that he didn’t feel more. Instead, his emotions felt dampened somehow, numbed. It was odd. Then, abruptly, Hawke shifted away from him and swore.

‘No. No Anders, we aren’t doing this.’

‘But- I thought…’

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I want to, badly. But Anders… I can’t take advantage of you like this. Not when you go from admitting you aren’t sure what you want to parroting the words Cullen made you speak in the space of a minute.’

Anders flushed, ashamed suddenly. It was true, he supposed. He had given no thought to what he actually wanted, instead trying to anticipate Hawke’s needs, based entirely on what Cullen had demanded from him. And Hawke wasn’t Cullen.

‘I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what to do. I do want you Ethan. I do. I just…’

Then there was a hand caressing his cheek, a husky voice hushing him. He found tears pricking his eyes, trickling from them and hated that he was so weak. But Hawke… Hawke was making soothing sounds, drawing him in to lie against his chest.

‘Oh Anders. I want you too, and we will work this out. I promise you. But there’s no hurry my love. None at all. We can take our time with this.’

‘My love.’ The words took his breath away. Was that really how Hawke thought of him? He had never dared hope for so much, at least not yet. Still, Fenris had hinted at as much, and here was the man himself, confirming it. He, Anders, was loved. He cried softly against Hawke’s chest, unsure if his tears were happy, sad or some mixture of the two. It was only when his sobs had subsided that Hawke spoke again.

‘Why don’t you go and get cleaned up? I’ll get Orana to send up some breakfast and we can talk when we’re both feeling a little less…het up.’

By which he meant, of course, when they had both taken the time to deal with their throbbing erections. It was a good idea, though Anders was still reluctant to pull away. Hawke chuckled.

‘I promise you Anders, there are plenty more cuddles in your future.’

And once again Anders found himself blushing, but this time there was little of shame in it and more of pleasure. Smiling shyly, he retreated form the bed and headed to the bathroom.

Laying back in a hot bath, breathing in the scent of the oils he had sprinkled into the water, Anders found his mind drifting back to the man he had left in the bedroom. And to his hardened state. Would Hawke let his cock soften naturally, or would he take the matter in hand? Picturing the man masturbating, he let his own hand slide down to take hold of his own prick. It was a long time since he had attended himself like this, since he had been free to do so. Giving himself an experimental stroke he whimpered. It felt good. So good.

Relaxing, he closed his eyes and tried to think. If things were going to progress with Hawke, he needed to figure out what HE wanted. What he liked and loved and needed. This seemed as good a time as any. So he let his mind wander, painting enticing pictures in his mind. Kissing, soft and gentle like earlier. Then becoming more impassioned, harder and needier, but still a gift, a shared pleasure and not a callous demand. And if that was how Hawke kissed, how would be make love? He would be firm, strong and yes, perhaps a little rough at times. Though not as rough as Cullen had been. And he would – he would CARE. He would ask if he was hurting, if he was going to fast. Gasping at the thought, Anders spurted into his hand. His cum congealed quickly in the water, little white blobs and strings floating on the surface.

Well, that had been different. And if he still wasn’t ready to voice his thoughts, his wants, at least he had a closer idea. Climbing out, he reached for a towel. The conversation still to come might not be easy, and he knew it would by necessity be the first of many. But his nerves were matched by his new found hope. Hawke had been the one to say they didn’t have to rush, that they had time. Well then, let it take as long as it needed. If Hawke was prepared to take things slowly, then he should be too. After all, the damage had been done over the course of years, it wouldn’t be healed overnight.


	14. Chapter 14

Despite his new found determination and hope, Anders still trembled with nerves as he entered the bedroom again. To Hawke, he seemed much younger than usual, all wide eyed and his damp hair smoothed back off his face. Hawke himself had changed from his nightclothes into a comfortable pair of pants and a loose shirt, and was now lounging on the bed. On the little table beside the bed rested a covered tray, no doubt the breakfast Orana had been asked to bring up.

Smiling, Hawke patted the bed beside him. Heart pounding, a trickle of sweat working it’s way down his back, Anders joined him. He took a deep breath and returned the smile, hoping it made him look more confident than he felt.

‘So then. Talking. I should warn you, despite all my practice I’m not always the best at that…’

‘Unless it’s about the plight of us poor mages, hmm? That’s alright. I’ve never been much good at this whole feelings stuff either. We can learn together, if you’d like?’

‘I-I would like. Thank you.’

‘Relax Anders. This is just a conversation. We’ve had lots of those, I’m sure we’ll manage one more just fine.’

‘Right.’

‘So then… The good part is that I’m pretty sure we both want this. Want each other.’

‘Yes. Oh yes.’

‘That’s a start then. OK. First awkward question then. Anders… Much as I want you, and believe me I do, I want more than just… I don’t just want this to be a physical thing. I care about you. A lot.’

‘I-I feel the same way.’

And yet, whilst Hawke could feel the truth in those words, there was something else there. Frustration perhaps? Fear? He wasn’t able to define it, but it troubled him, greatly. Whatever it was Anders had left unsaid, he knew it was important. But how did he get the mage to open up and share it with him?

‘So then. I guess we figure out the emotional stuff first, right? ‘

Anders swallowed, his face oddly miserable for someone who was apparently starting out on a relationship with the man of his dreams.

‘Anders? What is it?’

‘I-I want that. I do. The emotional stuff. But, Ethan…’

‘What is it?’

‘How do you… I mean I- I don’t know how t-to show that. I’ve never…’

‘Never what?’ As he spoke, Hawke let his hand rest gently on one of Anders.

‘I’ve never been in love before. Not ever. It’s not something that can happen in the circle, really. And even if I had been, there was always…’

‘Cullen.’

‘Yes.’ Anders shifted, a little closer but Hawke wasn’t sure he realised that. ‘H-how do you show it? Without th-the physical stuff I mean. ‘

Hawke sighed, realising once more just how limited Anders emotional education had been. And that wasn’t all the fault of Cullen, though it was something the templar had certainly used to his advantage. It was the circle, tearing youngsters from their families and denying them any and all loving bonds. Even if love between mages – or mages and non mages – wasn’t outright banned, the situation they found themselves in made it unwise at best. His heart broke for the man beside him, a man he knew was by nature warm, affectionate, tactile. But had never learned that it was OK to be those things, to allow that nature to really share itself with another.

‘Anders… Oh, my darling. You do it like this, by talking. By saying it.’ He drew the other mage gently into his arms. ‘By holding each other… Just by being together, sharing your lives.’

Anders smiled a little tearfully as he looked up at Hawke.

‘By kissing?’

Hawke chuckled. ‘Yes, by kissing. If that’s what you both want. Is that what you want Anders?’

‘Y-yes. Yes.’

And with that their lips were touching, soft and gentle. Hawke slid his tongue along Anders lower lip, a tender caress. The other mage opened his mouth, giving his tongue entry with a needy whine. Somehow, Hawke found himself with a lap full of mage, one so focussed on exploring his mouth with his tongue, and his face with his stroking fingers that he probably didn’t even notice where he had moved himself to. It was wonderful. Perhaps the most amazing thing he had ever felt. And then the creak of a door, followed by the soft pad of mabari footsteps and a single gruff wuffing noise caused them to split apart, breathless.

Barkspawn jumped up onto the bed, wagging his stump of a tail. Then he turned his attention to their breakfast tray, cocking his head and giving Hawke the soppiest puppy eyes he had ever seen.

‘Hmm. Something thinks it’s time for breakfast. And I happen to think he’s right.’

Anders nodded, flushing and scrambled out of Hawke’s lap. Sighing at the loss of warm contact, Hawke graced him with a happy smile before reaching out for the tray. Orana had put together a very thoughtful breakfast, perhaps realising that they two men might not get to it straight away. Instead of containing foods which might not have appealed cold, she had laid out a platter of fruit, cheese and slices of cold meats. Barkspawn barked his approval of the latter. Meanwhile, some rather enticing looking strawberries gave Hawke an idea.

He moved the tray onto the bed, between himself and Anders, giving Barkspawn a look which made clear how much trouble he’d be in if he stole any of their food. Relenting, he placed a handful of ham on the bed for the dog. Then, he plucked a ripe looking strawberry from the pile and held it up before Anders, placing it softly against his lips.

‘Eat love. You always look half starved to me.’

And so they spent a happy morning, cuddled up on the bed and feeding each other. Their conversation flowed more easily, perhaps because they avoided serious subjects but Hawke was happy none the less. It was progress, and if that morning was a glimpse of what their future could be, then it was definitely one worth fighting for.

Whilst he had no doubt that bright future was awaiting them, it wasn’t to be found today. Their brief respite from doom and gloom was shattered by a rapid, booming knocking at the door. It reminded Anders briefly of the day Fenris had come to visit, but instead of the white haired elf it was a worried looking Aveline who awaited them in the foyer when made their way downstairs.

She was pacing the floor, biting on her lower lip with obvious agitation.

‘Hawke! I’m so sorry to burst in like this, but I have some worrying news for you. For both of you.’

The two mages exchanged a worried glance. This didn’t sound good at all. The positive, hopeful mood of the morning dissipated, fading away like a current of warm air banished by a hurricane.

‘What is it Aveline?’

‘It’s about Cullen.’

‘Cullen?’ Anders paled.

It had been so many weeks now since the man’s death, and Aveline had assured them that the guards investigation had soon been dropped for a lack of leads to follow. What could have occurred now?

‘I’m so sorry. The templar… They caught an apostate mage, late last night. Maker alone knows what they did with him, but he… He told them that you and Cullen were in a relationship. I only know this because they came knocking on my door this morning.’

‘What did they say?’ Hawke’s voice was harsh, angry.

‘Just that. That they knew Cullen had been seeing Anders, and that both had vanished at the same time. Only then one of the guards mentioned that she’d seen you in The Hanged Man. They’re looking for you, for questioning.’

Anders shivered, moving so close to Hawke that their arms touched and Hawke could feel the faint trembling. He swore, loudly.

‘Fuck. What do we do?’  
‘Get out of the city. Both of you. I’ll send word when things calm down, but right now… I don’t think they’ll leave things at a couple of questions. Not when it concerns their captain and an apostate. I’m so sorry Anders. I tried to keep it quiet but…’

‘No. It’s fine. What about Fenris? If they go asking around Darktown and someone saw him there…’

‘Don’t worry. I’m heading their next.’

Hawke nodded, thoughtful. ‘Good. Do that, and then go speak to Merril. Tell her and Fenris to meet us outside the city. I have an idea…’


	15. Chapter 15

They waited on the outskirts, in a wooded area that have been used often enough before that all could find it easily. Anders remained too pale for Hawke’s liking, but otherwise seemed to be holding up. Barkspawn kept close to him, leaning his comforting weight against Anders leg, for which Hawke was grateful. Despite the dog’s fierce appearance, he had always been a rather sensitive animal. Right now, that was a trait Hawke valued more than any other, except perhaps his boundless loyalty.

Merril bounced up and down on her toes, torn between excitement at being out and about, and concern for her companions. Though Anders had never seemed to have much liking for the little elvhen mage, she either didn’t notice or chose to ignore that fact, acting instead as if one of her dearest friends was being threatened. It was endearing, the way Merril’s big heart allowed her to care even for those who didn’t seem to return her concern. Though at times it troubled Hawke, for he sensed that her good nature left her open to exploitation, particularly by demons. Not that she’d listen, of course.

Finally, Fenris made his appearance, his scowl seemingly out of place in the bright afternoon sunshine. Perhaps predictably, Isabela was with him, smiling brightly and cracking dirty jokes as if fleeing the city for fear of death or imprisonment was a normal, everyday occurrence. Mind you, for her it might well be.

Now that they were all gathered, Hawke filled them in on his plan. They would head out to the Dailish. Despite their distrust of Shem, they were unlikely to turn away those who had assisted them in the past. And despite their differences, he was sure they wouldn’t turn away Merril. More importantly, the clan were outside of the influence of templar and the chantry, and it would take a long time, if ever, for anyone to think to search there. Hefting their packs, they headed out, Barkspawn running ahead pleased to be outside.

As Hawke had predicted, whilst the Dailish weren’t precisely in the mood to throw them a welcome party, they did agree to let them camp with them for a short while. No more than a week or so, and in exchange for a few jobs. All in all, cleaning out a few spiders and battling a few demonic entities seemed a fair exchange for safety and a place to rest.

It was particularly worth it as Hawke watched what the change in scenery did for Anders. Once out of the city, the mage seemed to relax. Maybe it was because there was little reason for Justice to raise his head here, or more likely it was simply that this was a place which held no memories of Cullen. Whatever the case, Hawke was profoundly grateful. A few days out in the countryside, and Anders was looking positively healthy for the first time in months.

The pace of life out here was different to that in the city. Slower, quieter and peaceful, as were the people themselves. It was, Hawke felt, the perfect environment to spend time with his new lover. Anders seemed to feel much the same way, exhibiting a new found confidence, not just with initiating kisses, but also in talking about things. Not the biggest or scariest things, but still things he didn’t find easy. He spoke a little of his time in the circle, without either touching on Cullen or entering into one of his long winded, familiar rants. He spoke more about the things he loved, the feel of a light summer rain against his face, the first footsteps in crisp new snow, the warm, flickering light of a well constructed fire. Simple things, for the most part.

For his part, Hawke shared a little of his grief at losing his mother and Bethany, more of his memories growing up in Lothering. It was late in the afternoon, three days after their arrival that he was sharing a particularly amusing story involved the twins, a well and a daring rescue that had more to do with avoiding a telling off than any real sibling concern. Andres was watching him, seemingly entranced by the smile. He stopped talking, glancing over at him.

‘What? Do I have something on my face?’

‘Yes.’

‘I do? What?’

‘The most beautiful smile I have seen.’

And with that, the talking stopped for a while, as Anders moved closer, tracing that smile first with his fingers then with his tongue. They kissed for a good long time, until Anders pulled back, panting. He swore, frustration plain on his face.

‘This isn’t enough. Ethan I-I want… Do you think we could, maybe, try to go a little further?’

With a startled nod, Hawke jumped to his feet and held out a hand. If there was a chance of going beyond kissing, they needed a little more privacy than this quiet spot by the empty Halla paddock. He lead his mage to their shared tent, checking first that Isabela and Fenris hadn’t snuck in here first. Which was a distinct possibility, despite them having their own perfectly good tent. Apparently, theirs had been nearer when the urge had taken them.

Thankfully, the tent was empty. Even Barkspawn was out, no doubt chasing butterflies with Merril. A passtime the two apparently shared a liking for. He smiled reassuring at Anders.

‘Come on love.’

He sat upon the make shift bed, waiting for Anders to join him. Instead, the other mage slid to his knees in front of him, glancing up briefly before parting Hawke’s legs and shuffling forwards so that he rested between them.

‘Anders…’

The mage looked up again, stricken. ‘D-Don’t you want this?’

‘Anders, I’m a man. Of course I want this. But… I think we should talk about it first.’

‘I-I don’t know.’

‘Please?’

With a sigh, Anders settled back on his knees. Why was Hawke making this complicated? This was something he was good at, after so much practice. And it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Not now, at least. Right now, all he wanted was to move things forward. To show Hawke that he was ready to take it further, and this seemed a natural next step.

‘Fine. Let’s talk then.’

Hawke raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think you realise how adorable you are when you sulk.’

Anders flushed a little, but found himself smiling anyway. Hawke nodded once, pleased to see that the mage was alright.

‘So. Is this a particular… favourite activity of yours? Only, it seems to be your go to activity of choice.’

Anders blinked, startled by the question. Then he shrugged. ‘People like it.’

‘Yes, they do. But I’m asking if you like it.’

‘I-I’m good at it. Please Hawke, just let me do this.’

‘I will, as soon as you tell me this is something you enjoy.’

Anders bit his lip, flustered. He had never given much thought to whether or not he enjoyed it, always too preoccupied with making it enjoyable for the person (Cullen) he was with, or simply trying not to choke or gag if they were rough with him.

‘I-I don’t know what you want me to say.’

Hawke shook his head, unsure how he could make his question any clearer. He knew Anders had a hard time expressing what he wanted, and he wondered now if that was partly because he simply didn’t know. Deciding to try a different tack, he asked a slightly different question.

‘Do you like it when someone goes down on you?’

Anders merely stared up at him, wide eyed in amazement. Then he shook his head, flushing once more.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never... That’s never happened.’

‘Never? Hmm. Well then. I think that might be something we should fix.’

‘I-You’d do that? For me? But wouldn’t you feel…’

‘Feel what?’

‘Dirty.’ It came out in a hushed whisper, Anders dropping his gaze as he said it.

‘No Anders, it wouldn’t. Because it’s not dirty. It’s a beautiful thing that both parties should get pleasure out of. Will you let me show you that?’

Suddenly shy as a virgin, Anders nodded. He wasn’t able to say the words, to ask for this, but Hawke understood and didn’t push him. Instead, he reached down and pulled Anders up and into his arms. Anders straddled his lap, letting himself be pulled in for a heated kiss. Then he found himself being laid back on the bed. Hawke opened and pulled down his breeches, with a little assistance. All the while, speaking in a soft, soothing voice.

Then he knelt between Anders’ legs. Leaning down, he blew softly, his breath ghosting across the tip of Anders cock. Soft hands stroked a teasing pattern from his belly button down to his groin, then along his thighs but Hawke never made physical contact with the hard length. Anders whimpered, his need reflected in his wide eyes, pupils blown with desire. Smiling, Hawke let the very tip of his tongue lap against the slit in the head of his penis, chuckling when Anders bucked at the sensation. Then his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, lapping at his heavy balls, sliding along the underside of his aching prick, before finally, Hawke’s mouth closed around him.

He writhed, squirming until Hawke was forced to steady him with a hand on his hip, his other hand giving his balls a gentle squeeze. Anders raised one hand to his mouth, sucking on it, biting at it to try and stop the needy little noises escaping him. Hawke suckled, the hot pressure of his mouth pulling at his cock. Then he swallowed and it was the single most exhilarating thing Anders had ever felt. Several moans slid from his mouth, around his hand. If Hawke kept this up he was going to scream.

And then he was. ‘Oh maker. Ethan! Hngh! Oh, oh, oh!’

In response, Hawke pulled back, making a hollow of his mouth before bobbing his head up and down, back and forth. Then he hummed, and the vibrations were delicious, but almost too much. And now he wasn’t even forming words, simply letting inarticulate noise escape him, and he was coming, hard, in Hawke’s mouth. And it felt wonderful.

Afterwards, he lay panting on his back, not sure he would ever again be able to move and uncertain that that would be a bad thing. When his eyes cleared, he looked anxiously at Hawke, but the look on Hawke’s face eased any fears he had. Hawke looked almost as sated as he felt, his eyes hazy with bliss, one hand already working his own throbbing length.

‘Mmm. Anders, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. If you could only see yourself!’

Before Anders even had time to offer a helping hand, Hawke was spilling across his own. Almost disappointed, Anders managed to push himself up. Then he crawled to Hawke’s side, taking his hand and sucking each finger clean in turn. Seeing Hawke’s eyes widen, hearing his intoxicated groan, Anders was certain he had never felt so good in his entire life. Not even as a child, free of care and concern.


	16. Chapter 16

It was early the next day when Varric arrived, his usual cheerful self. To his friends however, it was possible to pick up just the faintest signs of strain beneath his chatty, amusing exterior. Whatever the dwarf had to tell them, Anders feared it wasn’t good. The companions gathered in Hawke’s tent, keeping to small talk while Merril insisted on playing hostess and making a pot of tea. Finally, warming his hands on his cup, Varric turned the conversation to the reason for his visit.

‘The situation is under control, sort of. Honestly Hawke, Aveline has worked wonders.’

‘Sort of under control? What do you mean sort of?’

Anders made little effort to hide the tension in his voice, or his expression. Hawke took his hand, giving it a squeeze. Next to them, Fenris shifted uncomfortably. It was he, after all, who had killed the man. Even he could see that it was unfair for Anders to be the one under investigation, particularly when he was in danger already simply for being a mage.

‘Well. She’s managed to reach an agreement with Meredith. Just. With choir boy whispering in Elthina’s ear, and the Viscount firmly in your camp Hawke, we might just be able to sort this.’

‘Fine. What’s this agreement then?’

‘Right. That. The situation is simple. They have a missing Knight-Captain, and they want someone to blame. What they don’t want is rumours of a man in Cullen’s position running around with a known apostate. So, with some fast talking, a lot of bribery, a handful of templar and Sebastian all willing to testify that Cullen wasn’t being controlled by blood magic, a sort of compromise has been reached.’

Anders shivered. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’

Varric winced. ‘Seems unlikely blondie. Meredith wants an audience with you. Now, you won’t be in there alone, and they’ve already agreed to let you go free afterwards – if only because you’re Hawke’s lover now and he’s fast becoming a hero to the majority of Kirkwall. But, they do want to hear your account of what happened.’

‘My account? I can’t go in there and tell them what happened! Varric, no!’

‘Calm down Blondie. No one’s suggesting you go in there and tell the truth. Just… say the two of you ran off together or something, but then you had a falling out and you’ve not seen Cullen since. Think you can do that?’

Anders closed his eyes briefly, and Hawke could feel him trembling slightly. From the tight clenching of his jaw, he would have guessed it was with anger as much as it was with fear.

‘What happens then? They let me go and what?’

‘And life carries on as normal. Just we keep a bit more of an eye on you, make sure they don’t go back on their word. Try not to worry, we won’t let anything happen to you.’

Anders nodded, biting his lip. He heard the unspoken subtext – they wouldn’t let anything further happen to him. Still, it was a lot to ask. He wasn’t even sure he wished to go back, not when it was so peaceful out here. But they couldn’t stay forever, the Dailish had made that very clear. And in any case, the clan would move on eventually. Besides, Justice was tolerant at present, understanding that his friend was hurting, but their cause would not be served by hiding. And as for Hawke… His life, everything he had worked for was back in Kirkwall.

‘Fine. I-I’ll do it. But I want Hawke in there with me.’

‘Understood. You’ll have Aveline too, a couple of her guards.’

The journey back to Kirkwall was subdued, even Barkspawn staying close by rather than running off like he usually did. Merril’s normally bright mood always suffered when she left her people, her emotions conflicted. Fenris had retreated into a distant, distance inducing silence. Which left Isabela and Varric to try and keep up some semblance of conversation as they walked. Hawke tried to help them from time to time, but his focus was on Anders, the man having retreated a little since making his decision.

They arrived home the day before the dreaded interview, to find Aveline waiting for them. She spent some time closeted with Anders, going over his story and helping to prep him for what was to come. The mage seemed to hold up OK, but he was quiet and distant for the rest of the night. When they went to bed, he clung to Hawke, fingers weaving into his chest hair, gripping just the painful side of comfortable. Still, Hawke was happy enough to weather the slight stinging if it gave his lover some much needed comfort.

And then it was time to go and see Meredith. The Gallows was it’s usual dreary, forbidding self and Hawke found himself wishing that they had been able to arrange for this meeting somewhere else. As soon as they were seated in Meredith’s office, he was already regretting coming here at all. Anders had paled, his face strained and a faint trembling in his limbs just about discernible.

Meredith sat across from them, her gaze cold, focussed in a way which unsettled everyone present. She looked upon Anders with contempt, making no effort to hide her disgust.

‘So you are the little mage who managed to corrupt one of my best men. ‘

‘I-I didn’t corrupt him!’

‘No? What was it then? Love?’ Her voice was scornful. ‘No. I don’t care what anyone says, you used some foul magic to make him crave you. To make him desire you. There is no other explanation.’

Aveline frowned. ‘With due respect, we have already discussed this. The relationship between them involved nothing of magic, or coercion.’

‘Fine. Well then, mage. Where is my Knight-Captain?’

‘I-I don’t know. We argued and he left, in the night. I’ve not seen him since.’

‘No. Of course not. Well, it seems I have little choice but to let this farce play out as the guard captain wishes.’ She cast an angry, seething look at Aveline, who didn’t even deign to notice it.

‘As for you… You are neither young nor pretty. One day you will run out of lovers to protect you, and then you we will bring you here and teach you your place. In the meantime, remember that I will be watching you.’

Anders shivered, nodded and looked away. Then it was over and they were being shown out. It was over. But looking at Anders, Hawke knew that wasn’t quite true. The interview had been short, and less traumatic than Hawke had expected, but regardless it seemed to have shaken Anders up rather a lot. It wasn’t until they curled up together that night that he finally learned what had upset Anders so much.

‘There was.’

‘Was what my love?’

‘Coercion. There was.’

Hawke blinked, casting a careful gaze over his lover. Anders’ voice trembled with uncertainty. He reached a hand out to capture that of his lover, stroking it gently and waiting for him to finish.

‘I-I didn’t want Cullen. I didn’t.’

‘Anders, I know that. We all know that.’

‘But Aveline said…’

‘Oh Anders. That was just part of the story.’

Anders nodded, but his eyes were unfocussed, vague in a way which worried Hawke. He whispered something, so quiet that he had to strain to hear.

‘But I-I did ask for it. I always asked for it. He made me. I-I didn’t want it though. I didn’t.’  
‘I know you didn’t Anders. I know.’

He held his lover close as he dissolved into tears, lost in memories that were only just beginning to make sense. That confronted him with the truths he had tried to hide from for so many years. True, he had started to accept that he had been a victim, but the full impact of that realisation was only just hitting him now. So Hawke held him, stroking his hair and whispering reassuring nonsense until Anders had fallen into a troubled sleep. Then he sat up all night, joined by Barkspawn, as they looked over their mage, guarding his sleep and wishing they could also guard his dreams.

For three nights straight, Anders cries himself to sleep, then it is only every other night. Finally, weeks have passed without tears and Hawke allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Anders has settled once more, if not quite as relaxed as he had been whilst out of the city. It was still an improvement.


	17. Chapter 17

Anders moaned softly, his fingers curling in Hawke’s hair, his lips tingling and reddened. Kissing Hawke had fast become of his favourite ways to pass the time, but as when they were visiting the Dailish, he wanted more. And the hard length pressed against him told him that his lover felt the same.

In the weeks since he met with Meredith, neither one had dared to initiate much more than a kiss. Anders understood why Hawke was being so cautious, but he was tiring of waiting for the man to push them further. Now, for the first time, it occurred to him that maybe he could be the one to move things on. He pulled Hawke in for another kiss, one hand resting at the back of his neck. The other hand slid down, stroking over his stomach, teasing it’s way down the hair trail which lead, enticingly, into Hawke’s waistband.

He pulled back slightly, breathless. ‘Ethan? May I?’

‘May you…? Oh.’ Hawke gifted him with a startled smile, and a heated gaze.

Taking that as his cue to continue, he slid his hand into Hawke’s small, seeking the heated flesh he knew he would find there. It took him a moment to find a rhythm that worked, to time his firm strokes with the writhing of their bodies. To learn how much pressure made Hawke whimper, and how little made his gasp. It was invigorating, and he soon became so caught up in his exploration that he ceased his assault on Hawke’s mouth.

The other mage chuckled. ‘Come here.’ He tilted Anders’ face back up towards his, with a gently hand at his chin. Then he shifted until he was resting atop him, forcing Anders to change the angle of his hand. But when Hawke moved in, nipping at his lower lip, he found it hard to complain. It wasn’t long before he felt Hawke’s cock start to pulse in his hand, preparing to shoot it’s load. And then Hawke was stopping him, one hand catching his wrist.

‘Stop, please. I-I want us to come together.’

Anders flushed, partly in desire and partly in pleasure. He lay back, taking in the sweaty mass of man now sitting above him.

‘Wh-what did you have in mind.’

‘You, in me.’

It took a moment for Anders to understand what Hawke meant. His stomach flipped at the thought. Nerves warring with sudden need. It had never occurred to him that Hawke might want it that way round.

‘I-I don’t know how.’

Shame flooded through him at the confession, that for all his experience he had never once been the one to do the taking. After all, Cullen would never have so much as considered it, and his other trysts had been hurried affairs, more about hands and mouths than anything else. If he expected Hawke to be disappointed however, then he couldn’t have been more shocked by his reaction.

Hawke moaned, wantonly. His eyes dilating with desire. Anders felt his cock throb once more against his stilled hand. He stared up at his lover, wide eyed.

‘But, you want to? Please, tell me you want to!’

Now it was his turn to laugh, even if it did have an anxious edge. ‘I… Yes! Oh yes.’

‘Good.’

Hawke moved, climbing off Anders. As soon as he was off the bed, he stripped off his smalls, standing in full naked glory. Then he was scrabbling around in a chest, finally emerging triumphant with a pot of oil. Grinning, he returned to the bed.

‘Next time, if you want to, you can do this. But for now, just watch.’

So, he lay back and did just that. He watched Hawke dribble the oil into his hands, holding it there to warm for a moment. Then he smeared it around, coating his fingers, before laying back with his legs spread to give Anders the perfect view. Anders watched entranced as his lover spread himself, pulling one cheek away to reveal his tight, pink hole. Then using his other hand, he worked a single finger into that pucker.

Watching, Anders failed to bight back a sob. It was beautiful, Hawke was beautiful. When the man worked a second finger in, Anders found his own hands sliding to his prick without a conscious thought. Even as he took himself in hand with his right, his left hand was seeking lower, further. As Hawke slid in a third finger, eyes fluttering shut and groaning, Anders found his own fingers teasing the edges of his hole.

Then Hawke was shifting again, sitting up and moving forward. He playfully slapped Anders hands away, then reached once more for the oil. With only a few quick strokes he had Anders coated and ready to go. Then he was straddling him, sitting above him and looking down.

‘Now just lay back, and enjoy.’

Anders blinked, momentarily confused. Then Hawke took hold of him, tugging slightly to line him up and he understood. He whimpered, trying not to squirm as Hawke lowered himself. He went slowly, pushing his hole against the tip of Anders cock firmly, until it had passed through that tight ring of muscle.

He was unprepared for the delicious heat, for the pressure on all sides as he pushed in deeper. It was tight, and warm and then Hawke was moving above him and he was crying out, panting and gasping for breath. It was like nothing he had ever felt, almost painful at first but so so good.

‘Oh Maker! I-I Oh!’

Hawke smiled down at him, raising and lowering himself at a steady pace. His own cock bobbing in time with the movement. Anders wriggled, trying to push up further into that gorgeous heat. And as he did so, Hawke let out a cry of his own. A wordless, growly sound of want. So he pushed up again, and again, whilst Hawke pushed down.

And then, Hawke tightened around him, spasming and moaning and he was coming. Jets of white, sticky cum, splattering on Anders stomach and chest, some of it dribbling down Hawke’s own tummy. Unable to hold on any longer, Anders let Hawke squeeze him again, pulling from him the most intense orgasm of his life.

Afterwards, they lay curled around each other, sated and happy. Anders nuzzled into Hawke’s sweat slicked shoulder, placing a kiss there. The salty taste of Hawke’s sweat was left upon his lips, and deciding that he rather liked that he gave an experimental lick. Hawke simply tightened his arms around him in response.

‘Next time, maybe we could try that the other way around.’

‘Oh? Would you like that?’

‘I really think I would.’

‘Then so would I.’  
Anders cuddled into his shoulder, smiling sleepily. He didn’t doubt that there would still be difficult times ahead, but right now this was the happiest he had ever been and he intended to enjoy every single second of it. He tried to voice his thoughts, but ended up yawning instead. He would have tried again, but Hawke chose that moment to let out what sounded suspiciously like a snore. Well, he would just have to tell him later then, because whatever the future held, he was sure in that moment that there was a lot of ‘later’ to come.

THE END


End file.
